Memoirs of An Autobot
by Bliss123
Summary: Witnessing your home being completely leveled could destroy any mech. Only the strongest survive. Follow Bluestreak through his journey to healing and along the way see just what secrets this innocent little doorwinger is hiding. But is it out of deceit or protection for his own fragile spark? Slash.
1. Chapter 1

Memoirs of an Autobot

**AN: Wow it's been so long since I've written anything. I hope this is alright for not writing in almost a year. Forgive me if it's a little rough around the edges, but the first chapter is always the hardest for me. Hope you enjoy!**

**-Bliss**

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Chapter One- And So It Begins

He remembered the darkness. The lights going out in a flash. He remembered the sky lighting up in red as bombs littered the city and blew towers away. He remembered the masses of body frames falling to the ground, optics completely lifeless. He remembered the red optics of their attackers with devious grins on their faces.

But most of all he remembered the silence.

Buried alive in the rubble of his former home, only feet away from the cold bodies of his creators and servants, he was certain his fate was sealed.

For cycles he waited in the darkness. The energon had ceased to flow out of his wounds, but his vocalizer sparked every time he tried to speak. The ground rumbled as bots scavenged the area for survivors. But no one got close enough to find him, to hear his spark. Hope gave way to desperation as his frame finally stopped its self-repairs and heating.

Then he heard a voice.

"Primus…we have a heat signature! We've got a survivor! Get the Wreckers and Ratchet over here!" The world around him became even darker with flashes of lights and faces. No sound entered his audios. The agony he had felt was a blissful numbness. But hope was renewed. By some miracle it had returned.

Ratchet had seen his fair share of war. He had watched mechs lose loved ones, limbs, and even their minds. Suffering, cruelty, even death was nothing new, but something about the gray youngling half-buried in the rubble ignited a new kind of desperation in him. He wasted no time in analyzing the mech's sparkbeat, sealing off his wounds, and loading him up.

Fixit and Perceptor were waiting for him in the medbay. Surprisingly, the surgery was quick. The Praxian had a clean break in his left arm and his doorwings were easy enough to fix after countless incidents with Prowl and Smokescreen. His cooling systems were reestablished and his vocalizer was easily replaced.

Now he just needed to wake up.

But he didn't. For three decaorn the unnamed mechling lay forgotten in Room 3, known by none except two medics and a scientist.

One day, Ratchet was startled out of a stasis nap at his desk by elevated processor activity from the Praxian. Tripping, over his left two pedes he sprinted down the halls and bursted into the room. Wheeljack looked completely frozen in his position of examining the youngling's newly repaired doorwings. His headfins were red with embarrassment.

"Wheeljack, what are you doing?" Ratchet's tone was exasperated as unusual when he was dealing with the genius, but horrifically strange Wheeljack.

"I was just looking for a part I misplaced and stumbled on this mech. You…you just used the new technique of doorwing repair that we developed to mend his doorwings and I was curious! That's all! I promise I didn't touch anything or blow anything up! Don't hurt me!" The CMO rolled his optics sky-high as Wheeljack end up in an almost fetal position by the end of his explanation.

"Forget it, you moron. Are you sure you didn't touch him? Because he responded to something." Ratchet's glare had the white and green mech scrambling backwards.

"I promise! I almost did, but then you came in! But I did let my sensornet slip. Maybe it was that."

Ratchet held up a servo to stop his overenthusiastic friend and placed his digits on his nose-plate, falling in his 'thinking' position.

"Alright. I want you to take care of him, okay?" Another glare shut Wheeljack's protests down before they even left his vocalize. "I know Prime has no projects for you at the moment and the mech's been completely unresponsive for almost a groon. Plus you need to get out of that slagging lab and have some sentient contact! So check on him three times a cycle, share your field, and talk to him. Once Prowl returns from Polyhex I'll see if he knows who this mech is. And he'll need to hear about Praxus's demise. It's best if I have him in my care." Ratchet's talking turned from instructions to self talk, causing the scientist to vent a sigh of relief. He looked down at the pretty gray doorwinger. And well, he could have had worse assignments.

Prowl shuttered his optics as he took in Ratchet's sorrowful expression. The lack of response from his battle computer assured him that he would find himself in Jazz's room, struggling for ventilation later in the cycle when the horrific news had time to sink in. But there was at least one miracle Ratchet had implied. A mech survived he said. Another Praxian.

"Prowl, are you alright?" From Ratchet's tone he would be back tomorrow for a check-up. It was not normal to have no reaction to such tragedy.

"Yes. You stated that there was a possibility I knew the mech who did not perish. Shall we go and see?" Evasion was an iffy task to use on Ratchet, but it seemed to work despite the medic's frustrated look.

"Wheeljack has been caring for him for almost a decaorn. He's been unconscious for a groon now, but he's responding to Jack's presence."

Prowl froze in the doorway of Room 3 as he gazed at the motionless mech.

"Bluestreak."

Then his processor crashed.

"I want no one to speak of Bluestreak. If Megatron finds out someone survived the attack, he'll have every Decepticon on Cybertron at our door. As of right now only Ratchet, Wheeljack, Perceptor, Fixit, myself and- by the end of the cycle- Optimus Prime will be the only bots aware of Bluestreak's stasus or location." Prowl exhaled sharply as Jazz kept running his digits descreatly over his doorwings, trying to entice him to his quarters. Curse the spy and his seductive tendencies. "That is all. Dismissed."

After everybot filled out of the office, Jazz threw himself into Prowl's lap. Kissing the red chevron. The SIC rolled his optics, but leaned in to kiss Jazz.

"Ya realize that Ah wasn' on yer list of clear' personnel, righ'?" Prowl gave Jazz a disbelieving look and almost snorted.

"Jazz, you are the exception to all rules." They shared a chuckle before Jazz's visor darkened. He rotated around in Prowl's lap, facing him full on. Taking his face in hand, Jazz stared straight into his optics.

"Ya alrigh'? Ah know ya. Yer processor's goin crazy ain't it?" His frame started to shake, a low buzzing rang through his audio receptors. Keening, he rested his helm in the crock of Jazz's neck. They held each other. In the privace of that office as Prowl allowed himself to grieve. Grieve for Praxus. Grieve for his creators and family.

Grieve for his brother.

And Jazz just gave a sad smile and held him closer.

When he woke, coolant streaming down his cheek-plates. A silent sob shook his frame as dreams-memories-plagued his mind. Rejection and coldness stabbed at his spark causing a keen to escape his lip-plates. Such anguish was too much.

He jerked as a servo gentle pet his helm. Slowly, he looked up into the face of a masked mech. The fins adorning his helm were a strange soft red and the only thing encouraging him to loosen his tense cables was the serene blue of his optics.

Neither of them spoke for a good breem as Blue expelled his grief. He took in this new strange mech. While the drugs dazed him a little nothing could damper the aura of sheer goodness in him.

"I'm Jack…well, I'm Wheeljack, but all my friends call me Jack. You can too, but only if you want to!" That's all it took. Just a little gibberish and Bluestreak almost thought he was in love.

Smiling, he slowly sat up and winced as his frame ached. "I'm Bluestreak. But you can call me Blue."

"Do you remember what happened?"

"No…" Blue's optics suddenly widened. "Wait…Praxus…oh, Praxus…" Wheeljack offered his servo and they mourned in silence. "I'm sorry. I-I was in there for so long and it was so dark. Primus…I-I think I'm gonna be sick." Wheeljack hurried and grabbed a bucket, thrusting it under the Praxian's chin, wincing at the sound. Still, he pushed aside his squimish tanks and held the suffering mech, trying to keep the coolant at bay.

Sideswipe rolled his shoulder, trying to ignore the ache. He turned his helm towards his sulking brother. For some odd reason he had put his berth on the other side of the room. Well, he guessed that punching his brother in the face wasn't some 'odd reason', but that was beside the point. What worried him though was the bond being blocked. Sunstreaker had to be pretty slagged with him.

"Come on, Sunny, you can't be that mad at me. What's going on?" Silence was his only answer and he growled. Sunny turned his helm and glared.

"There's something weird going with the officers. They're hiding something. Prowl, Ratchet, Wheeljack, Perceptor, even Jazz." Sideswipe gave a laugh and rolled onto his back.

"That's ridiculous. Just cause Ratch wouldn't treat us in the medbay doesn't mean that all the higher ups are hiding something."

"And when does Jazz and Prowl go into the medbay willingly?" The red mech thought for a minute and grinned.

"Well, there's only one way to find out."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: ****Thanks so much for the reviews. I know the stories not in its best shape, but I'm trying to push through the writer's block. I hope you all enjoy it. I absolutely love the Twins and other than being with Ratchet I like them with Bluestreak a ton!**

** Thanks to **_**kkcliffy **_**and **_**Jessie07 **_**for the reviews.**

** Thanks to **_**BlitzwingtheCon, Gonshyk, **_**and **_**Skyress98 **_**for the favorites.**

** And finally thanks to **_**BlitzwingTheCon, Gonshyk,**_ _**HikariFighter, Jessie07, Mireille84, kinderstalk, kkcliffy, **_**and **_**magic moe **_**for the follows. **

** Please enjoy a new chapter!**

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Chapter Two-Suspicion

The desperation on Sunstreaker's face was not a common sight, but the panic was. Despite his reputation as a ruthless, cruel killer, the golden mech was fairly sensitive within his spark and the safety of their twin bond. Ever since they were younglings and abandoned by their prostibot of a carrier he had harbored an unrepairable sense of fear of losing those he loved; especially Sideswipe. Rejection was so hard on him that he was comatose for groon after a relationship was ended. He would curl up in their berth and blame himself for being so unlovable. Over time he became convinced that all he did was hurt others, that destroying things was all that he was good for.

The feeling of terror from Sunstreaker's side of the bond was not surprising. Sideswipe gave an amused smile as he hugged the golden mech and rested his fore-plate on his twin's. He could be a funny mech sometimes. Normally he would have laughed and told him to quit being dramatic, but after their last failed relationship only seven groon ago he did not want 'teary-optic and sensitive' Sunstreaker to turn into 'enraged and killer' Sunstreaker's. It was best if he just played along.

"Come on, Sunshine. It's not that big of a deal. We've beat the slag out of each other before. It's nothing new. We won't be able to get into the medbay if we don't. Or do you not want to find out the big secret?" If there was one thing stronger than the yellow frontliner's fear of hurting his twin it was his obsession of finishing something he started. He'd be fragged if he was going to stay in the dark.

So he pulled his fist back and shattered Sideswipe's optic and cheek-plate. The red mech gave a curse and sprinted forward, shoving Sunstreaker into the wall. Datapads and durable boxes fell to the floor as the room shook. Sideswipe fell onto the berth with a grunt and slid to the ground just as his brother jumped. He snickered at Sunstreaker's colorful vocation and rubbed his nose-plate.

The twins continued on until they were carried out of their quarters towards the medbay by a disgruntled Ironhide -who had a dented cheek-plate from a punch meant for Sunstreaker- and an amused Blaster.

"You two are crazy, you know that? What caused such a commotion this time?" Sunstreaker growled at Blaster's question, playing the aggressor as well as he always did.

"Stupid Sides tried to put glitter on me. Ruin my paint." The crimson fighter smothered a grin into his hand resting on Ironhide's shoulder. If only they knew. Had any mechs truly paid attention they would have known that Sunstreaker only called his brother by his nickname when he was especially _pleased _with him. Of course, with him promising Sunny a double layer of new paint, a wash, a wax and some fun in the berth it was no surprise he was he was liked at the moment.

"You pair of fraggers are getting on my nerves. So shut up!" Ironhide jostled Sideswipe a little, but said nothing else.

All that was left was to get to the medbay and wait for their opportunity.

!2!2!2!2!2!2!2!2!2!2

Bluestreak giggled into his servo as Wheeljack dried off his severely ticklish pede with the rag. He received a cute grin, but was ignored in favor of finishing the task.

Despite his good mood, Blue was a little disappointed in himself for making a long recovery. After almost a groon in a coma, he spent the next two decaorn regaining mobility and being able to process solid energon cube. Mercifully, the nice -or insane- Chief Medical Officer Ratchet had taken him off all the machines at the beginning of that cycle. The only drawback was that he was not allowed to walk for another nine cycles. When Wheeljack tried to get him into the hoverchair so they could head to the washracks he had uncharacteristically glared and gave a flat out 'no'.

Wheeljack had taken his moodiness quite well. In fact, he had taken it a little too well. It was not until they were actually in the washracks that the scientist had admitted he was hoping he would not take the chair, only leaving the option of being carried.

The clumsy and cheerful masked mech was almost too cute.

"You good? Anywhere else you not dry?" Bluestreak smiled softly at Jack and his thoughtfulness. He shook his helm though and watched him walk out of the room for just a moment. Only a little while had passed and Blue knew he was in love. But somewhere in the deepest parts of his spark he missed his first love. He missed the feeling of being overwhelmed and dominated. He missed feeling absolutely safe and like he could be himself.

The Praxian shook his wings a little, shoving the thoughts away. That was a long forgotten time. It was time to move on. He loved Wheeljack now -even if he had not confessed it yet- and that was all that mattered. His first and forgotten love was gone for good.

"You want some energon?" An adoring smile graced Bluestreak's lip-plates as he welcomed Wheeljack back.

!2!2!2!2!2!2!2!2

"Ratchet, is your functioning at optimal levels?" Ratchet barely heard Preceptor as he watched Wheeljack was back to Bluestreak's room. He frowned at the feeling that plagued him spark, but stubbornly refused to indulge it. While he did not want to sound like Prowl, it was best not to let emotions get the best of one's self.

"Perfectly fine, Preceptor. Go ahead and head out." The small red mech nodded and left with his helm stuck in a datapad. Just as Ratchet was about to close up when the doors opened and Ironhide and Blaster walked in with two idiotic twins thrown over their shoulders. He vented deeply and gestured to the berths.

"What happened this time?" He was much too tired to deal with the banes of his existence and their stupidity, but then again that was what his job seemed to entail.

"Sunny just over reacted to a gesture of affection." Sideswipe winked at his twin, who growled and rolled onto his side. Ratchet rolled his optics and waved the soldier and communications mech away.

"I thought I told you both to keep yourselves out of my medbay! Are your audios not working?" Ratchet slammed Sunstreaker onto his back and smacked him upside the helm when he was snarled at. He started at the numerous dents and torn energon lines. Nothing seemed too serious, but he would keep them over night. He made a mental reminder to check on Bluestreak before he headed out for the night. The last thing he needed was for these two fools to mess with the goofy little Praxian.

"Of course our audios are working, we just weren't listening." Sideswipe chimed cheekily. The medic glared at him and sent Sunstreaker into stasis, easily rendering both mechs unconscious.

"Disrespectful slaggers."

Ratchet was quiet as he walked into Bluestreak's room. The mechling was curled in on himself with a thermal blanket pooled at his pedes. The room was dark. He felt a pang at the sliver of hostility he had for the Praxian and confusion for that emotion's presence. Shaking his helm, he silently pulled the IV stand over to the berth and hooked it into the energon line into Bluestreak's neck. Ratchet's venting caught as the doorwinger twitched. Luckily, he was able to keep him asleep.

Now if only Ratchet could sleep.

!2!2!2!2!2!2!2!2!2!2

Sideswipe onlined his optics in the dark room. He nudged his brother through their bond until he too was responsive. A grin slithered across his lip-plates as he soundlessly slid off the berth.

"Let's get this show on the road." Stealth was on their side as they scavenged the medical wing for some clue as to whatever secret the officers were hiding. Jazz would be proud; or as proud as he could be of some amateurs.

"What could they possibly be hiding in the medbay? I mean…other than the Rec Room it's the most visited area of the base. Maybe it's one of Wheeljack's weapons that actually worked…or a bot! Yeah, maybe it's somebot not something! What do you think Sunny? Sunny?" The red mech looked over his shoulder to see his twin standing in front of a room. He cocked his head to the side, wondering what could possibly have caught the golden mech's attention.

He almost jumped on Sunstreaker when he opened the door to Room 3.

"W-what are you doing?! If the Hatchet finds out we moved something we are so offline!" He winced when Sunny struck him upside the head.

"Shut up you idiot!" Something in his voice startled Sideswipe and left him quiet. In Sunstreaker's worst moods he became aggressive and his need to dominant became unrestrainable. A turning in Sides's tanks left him nervous and excited for their return to their quarters. Pushing that thought aside, he cautiously looked over Sunstreaker's shoulder into the dark room. He though his optics might fall out of his helm.

There on the berth was a dark figure. He was coiled in a fetal position. The mech was so small and thin looking, even they could tell with the darkness. Too make all matters worse; he had two elegant looking doorwings sprouting from his back-plate.

Man, Sunstreaker was going to be a handful when they got back to their room.

But it couldn't be…could it? It just could not be the same mech.

"Can I ask what exactly the two of you are doing?" The patient room door slammed faster than Sideswipe or Sunstreaker could register and the two turned.

Prowl caught Sunstreaker's punch before it connected with his face-plate. The look in his optics was unusually cold as he regarded the twins and their compromised situation. Sideswipe at least had the decency to look embarrassed.

"I'll ask once more. What. Are. You. Doing?" His optics were drawn to Prowl's doorwings and Sideswipe watched as they flared in a subconscious challenge. He was a little startled by the SIC's unusual display of emotion.

"Hey Prowl…listen we knew you guys are hiding something so we got curious. We were just trying to figure out the big secret. That's all." Prowl regarded them with dimmed optics and finally nodded.

"I see…I'm going to let you both off this time, but leave the medbay before I send you to the brig. Now." The frontliners scrammed like petrified turbo-mice out of the wing. Sideswipe felt his self-preservation instincts flare as he felt his narrow-minded brother stalk him. Memories of a beautiful blue-opticed Praxian haunted them both. Tears threatened to spill.

Wincing, Sideswipe slammed into the wall right next to their quarter's door. Sunstreaker growled optics dark as he was swept away by his nightmares that were all too real.

"It's okay, Sunny. It's okay." And they flew into their room and onto their berth with a loud thud.

!2!2!2!2!2!2!2!2!2!2

Sideswipe cradled the glowing green crystal in hand. The light was gentle in the darkness and he was sure to not wake his exhausted brother. Glancing over his shoulder, he took in Sunny's scratched and dented form. A sated hum echoed over their bond. Turning back to the Praxian jewel, he allowed an out of character look of thoughtfulness to overcome his face-plates.

Shuffling from the berth pulled him out of his longing.

"Sides?" He let a bittersweet smile take over as he dismissed a blissful, but impractical dream for a genuine and content reality.

"Coming, brother."


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:****Thanks so much for all the reviews and thoughts. I appreciate it very much. Please enjoy this new chapter and REVIEW! It inspires and motivates me and gets the chapters out faster! **

**Love,**

**Bliss**

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_**'Bond.' **_

Chapter Three- Showcasing

There were few times when Bluestreak was so terrified he thought he might offline where he stood. Actually he could not remember a time when he had been so frightened. In fact, he did not believe anybot could have ever been as afraid as he was at this very moment. He was sure his spark was going flutter right out of his chassis.

"Blue?" With wide optics, he turned to look at a grimacing Wheeljack. "You're crushing my servo. P-please let go." The Praxian quickly dropped the other mech's servo and smiled before rising to his pedes and pacing the medbay. His doorwings shuttered with worry at the thought of the arrival of their prestigious visitor. Yup, he was going to have a spark attack…or go into stasis. Either way it was not good.

"Sorry, I'm just really nervous. I mean he's so important. Why does he want to talk to me? There's nothing special about me. Am I in trouble? Oh no! I'm probably in trouble! I should have done something! I could have saved anyone in Praxus. I could have done something. Oh no. I don't want to offline…I should be offline. Better me than some other bot. May-"

"Blue." He felt any composure he had left crumble through his digits. Coolant flowed down his cheek-plates and he fell into Wheeljack's arms. The scientist chuckled, rubbing the Praxian's back-plate and rocking him. For such a small little mech, he sure was full of drama. "You're not in trouble and no one is going to offline you, I promise. You're a wonderful bot, okay? Okay?" Bluestreak sniffled a little and nodded, still shaking. "He's not going to hurt you. Primus, mech can barely hurt a turbo-mouse, much less a sweetling like you. I promise you'll be fine. And even if there was any danger I wouldn't let anybot touch you. I promise."

"I love you, Jack." Wheeljack felt his processor freeze. His optics widened and his engine spluttered. Behind his mask, he gapped like a petro-guppy.

Then the door opened.

Bluestreak started up…and up and up at the towering mech. His blue and red paint job screamed loud and his powerful frame type demanded attention and respect. The helm finals stood straight up with alertness. The mech would have oozed with dignity and grace…

Except he did not.

There was something very awkward and timid about the authoritative framed mech. He looked terrified to even suggest that he might have a group's attention, much less demand it. The mech looked ready to jump into a box for Primus's sake.

Who knew such a mech could be a Prime?

"Hello Bluestreak. I am Optimus Prime." Well, there it was. There was the grace in that baritone voice. Primus…he could have gone to the Well of Allsparks completely happy just listening to that voice. Bluestreak did not think he had even heard such a comforting, ethereal, and beautiful voice in all his vrons of life. There were no words.

"I-it-it-it's n-n-nice t-t-t-to me-me-meet y-y-you…" Optimus's optics widened at the numbing panic the Praxian was displaying. He tried to think of what he could have possibly done to scare him so badly, but thing came to mind. Then again the mechling had just survived a massacre so maybe he was just a little jumpy and nervous.

"It's wonderful to meet you too. Perhaps we could take a walk?" If the Prime thought Bluestreak's optics were wide a moment ago, now they were the size of Cybertron's mother moon.

What was even more shocking was the door winger's attempt to climb into Wheeljack's arms.

"NNNOOO! Wheeljack, I don't want to die! Please! Please save me! Don't let him offline me!" The CEO let his helm fall back dramatically and sighed deeply. He pulled Bluestreak in close and hugged him. Rubbing his helm, Optimus watched his servo go lower near the base of his neck cables.

"Now you just need to rest." Bluestreak fell limp into Wheeljack's arms, completely void of consciousness. Jack tried to dismiss the guilt that held a vice around his spark; easier said than done. Shaking his helm, he lifted the Praxian onto a spare medberth and gave Prime a long look.

Wheeljack let out a laugh.

"Well…" Optimus was not quite sure how to respond to the previous events. He had never met a bot so very terrified of him.

"Don't worry, Optimus. He's just a little skittish. He thought you were going to blame him for the destruction of Praxus. He doesn't really know how to handle what happened. It's been terrible on him." The look Wheeljack spared the mechling was enough to make the Prime turn his helm.

"Would you care to explain?" Jack hesitated for a moment, but nodded.

"He has night terrors almost every night cycle. He gets really still for about a breem and then just starts screaming. He can't get through two joor without something waking him up."

"I see. Has Ratchet been able to assist in this?"

"Well…he tried putting him in stasis, but then Blue onlines really disoriented and confused. It likes it when I hold him though…" Heat erupted over his cheek-plates. "Oh, sorry. I just need to stop talking…"

Optimus chuckled and motioned over to the energon dispenser.

"Let us get some fuel and talk more. Hopefully, our new friend will be a little more in his right processor when he comes online."

!2!2!2!2!2!2!2!2

"Are you sure we'll be okay? I've never met these mechs before and I'm not offically an Autobot...What if they don't like me?" Flicking his doorwings rapidly in a nervous little dance, Bluestreak glanced back and forth between the halls, looking for anybot ready to jump out and get him.

Next to him, Wheeljack smiled and wrapped his arm around the mech's shoulders.

"I already told you; you've got nothing to worry about. Everybot absolutely loves you. Right Prime?" Optimus turned around and gave Bluestreak a gentle smile and nodded.

"Wheeljack is correct, Bluestreak. You are a guest and refugee with the Autobots and will be treated with the respect it warents. Additionally, you are too good-sparked to be disliked. Quite honestly, you are the standard example of an Autobot."

Heat turned Bluestreak's cheek-plates red. Wheeljack gave him a laugh and a gentle hug before arriving in front of the Rec Room.

"Alright. You'll be fine and I'll be right here." Nodding with a fierce look on his face-plates, Blue watched as the doors slid open and a loud group-and a really big one- stood waiting for their new guest.

"Autobots, I would like to introduce the newest addition to our ranks; Bluestreak." Noise erupted from every corner of the room, bots pushing and shoving to catch a glimpse of the Praxian youngling.

Bluestreak squeaked and jumped behind Wheeljack as mechs started closing in on all sides. The scientist was kind enough to hold up a hand to the eager bots and gave a laugh to sooth the cyber-leech on his back-plate.

"Easy, mechs. He's a little skittish. Why not introduce yourselves first?" A large, boxy dark green mech stepped forward and extended he servo right over Wheeljack's shoulder, but instead of coming off pushy, Bluestreak found him refreshingly friendly.

"I'm Hound. Nice to meet you, Bluestreak." The mech's optics were gentle and innocent like his own. It was like talking to a kindred spirit. The doorwinger let out a huge gust of air as tension flew off his shoulders.

"It's wonderful to meet you too. You can call me Blue, but only if you want. What do you do? Who do you work under? How long have you been here? Is it nice? I was hoping to visit Iacon one cycle, but I guess with the circumstances it's not the best way. Anyways, who's your friend?"

Optimus was worried when all around them the bots went silent. Then began to laugh in tandem. Hound smiled brightly and laughed too. His sweet aura was too wonderful for Bluestreak not to love already.

"I'll definitely call you Blue. I'm a scout, but I mainly help out with Special Ops. I've been here for about five vron. I love Iacon, but I'm a little more into the organic stuff. I'm sorry you had to come here like this, but at least you're okay. And this is Mirage." While the scout was benevolently kind through his entire speech, something about the last sentence drew Blue's complete attention.

The light in Hound's optics when he looked at the silent and slightly shorter blue mech was painfully beautiful. He lit up like a supernova and extended his servo unconsciously to Mirage. Even more amazing was the gentle look he gave Hound in return.

Primus, were they in love.

An image of dark blue optics passed through his processor. A large servo caressing his cheek-plate as he sighed and leaned in further, basking in the unconditional love.

"It's really nice to meet you too, Mirage."

"The pleasure is mine, Bluestreak." Something in the blue and white mech's demenor kept Blue from speaking any further or trying to shake his servo.

It wasn't long before Bluestreak was introduced with all the other mechs and being treated like one of them despite his Neutral status. Optimus smiled to himself as he saw Blue win over Cliffjumper with a naïve expression about some kind of dirty joke. A few mechs were whispering behind him, but none had anything other than smiles or curious looks on their face-plates.

"Well, Ah'm gonna say he's doin pretty good. Don't'cha think, OP?" His smile widened, but he did not look at the saboteur who had materialized next to him.

"Yes, I do agree. Have you both been introduced yet?" Jazz leaned against his pede resting on the wall and tiltled his helm. His visor was darker than normal as he watched his brother-in-law interact with the rest of the crew.

"Nah, 'e don' even know Prowler's here. We'll see 'im tanigh." Just like that the SIC was gone again.

Optimus could not help, chuckle in amusement.

!2!2!2!2!2!2!2!2!2!

In the corner of the Rec Room, hidden in the shadows Sideswipe watched the new Praxian with bright optics. Next to him Sunstreaker growled and hissed in his spark.

_**'What is he doing here?!' **_

_** 'Praxus was leveled by the Cons. He was the only survivor. Almost didn't make it. Wouldn't have if it weren't for Ratchet.' **_While rage and hate rang through the golden mech's side of the bond, Sides was uncharacteristically silent. He simply observed the little doorwinger nervously converse with a whole pack of new mechs.

He only reached with a glare when he saw Wheeljack wrap his arm around Bluestreak's shoulder when he freaked out over something said by Trailbreaker. The two shared a look and spoke quietly, their helms coming close together. Too close.

He dampered the thought before it had time to make it's way to Sunstreaker. No need for his twin to be mad at him too.

_**'Come one, let's go.' **_They disappeared almost as well as Jazz.

!2!2!2!2!2!2!2!2!2!

Ironhide did not think he had ever let his jaw hang open so wide. He did not think he had ever had his optics so wide either. All in all, he did not think he had ever been so astonished by another mech than he was right at that moment.

"Did I do okay?" Bluestreak unshuttered his optics just a tad, too worried to actually look at his score. His servos trembled and his knees buckled until he was on the floor, dropping the rifle. His frame shook a little as flashes of light littered across his mind. Venting deeply, he looked back at the weapon specialist towering over him.

When Optimus has first introduced the youngling to the black mech he was sure he was in the presence of a mass of evil. He had screamed and run down the corridor towards Wheeljack who had assumed the Praxian would be fine without him Judging from the doorwinger clinging to his frame, apparently not.

Eventually, between Optimus and Wheeljack soothing Bluestreak and Ironhide keeping his mouth-plate shut they were all able to get into a training room. Somewhere along the way, while Bluestreak was absorbed in the learning of every kind of weapon, the Prime and scientist had stepped out, instead observing from behind the glass.

Imagine everybot's surprise when Hide had handed over a rifle to the mechling. They spent a couple of kliks going over the gun's anatomy before the big mech let the Praxian lose with a loaded weapon. That had not made Prowl- who was watching them from the monitor room- very happy. After yelling and cursing a storm in the black mech's audios, he had backdown and consented.

Then Bluestreak started to fire.

And finished with a perfect score.

Ironhide thought he might cry a little.

"Youngling, you've got yourself a gift." Blue stood and smiled brightly at Ironhide. He was starting to like it at the Autobot base.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: ****Okay, so I beg of you guys to forgive me for the horrible writing in this chapter in advanced. I rewrote it three times before I said forget it! And decided to push through. **

**Thanks so much to all the reviews and faves and follows. I appreciate everyone's support. **

**Just a note: I cannot stand trying to use the typical times table so I made my own. I am human and this is how I measure time! Just so you know I give these characters ages similar to that of humans. A vron (Cybertronian year) is not the same amount of time as a human one, but I'm not going to try and convert it. I just put like Prowl being 26 vrons as equivalent to a 26 year old human, just to give you an idea of what their maturity is. I am a firm believer in creators, carries, gestation chambers, and sparklinghood so they grow like that.**

**Any questions drop me a PM or review.**

**Enjoy!**

**PS. Tell me if Blue streak is too marysue. But I just love him so much. The only faults I can find in him are being dramatic, blond, and childish, but like with my little sister and brother it's a little endearing too.**

**Oh! And a question: Am I the only one who get's irritated as slag with all the clicking noises and whispers are a public computer lab? I go there every day after work to write and music makes things worse. Ugh!**

astro-second

klik-minute

breem-half hour

joor-hour

cycle-day

decaorn-week

groon-month

vorn-year

"Normal Talk."

_. Link.:._

_**'Bond.' **_

Chapter Four- No One Like Loved Ones

His helm ached so badly. It hurt to think and see. Even worse was the pain in his tanks.

A horrible retching sound echoed through the private room as Bluestreak tried to release the nonexistent contents of his tank into the bucket. His optics filled with coolant and his vocalize sparked, beginning for mercy from the strain. He rested his helm against the wall, closing his optics. The darkness was soothing.

"Where is he?" Bluestreak looked over at a new bot standing in the doorway. His silver frame was small, even smaller than his own. A blue visor covered his optics which lit up when they looked at each other. A keen escaped his vocalizer and he turned back to the bucket, heaving.

"Ah'll take care of 'im from here." The world fell away from him, only allowing him a few flashes of color and scenery. From what he could tell he was being carried down a hall or a series of them. Doors passed, but no bots came by, mercifully. He did not think he could have handled the embarrassment from the bots he had been trying so hard to impress for the last few decaorn.

A door pinged open and he was laid down on a surprisingly soft berth. Pillows and thermal blankets caressed his frame gently. A pair of servos turned him over so his doorwings were free to flutter.

"It's alrigh', lil Blue. Here drink this." Bluestreak was propped up and fed a cube of energon that tasted rather strange and made him gag. A voice hushed him. Servos were so tender and kind to him.

Time fell away as the world cleared.

"Ya feelin a lil better?" The Praxian was slow as he pushed up into a sitting position. His optics took in the silver mech. They stared at each other for a long time until the smaller mech smiled.

"Aw, yer cute. Ya get that look on yer face like Prowler when 'e's mad." Bluestreak thought his optics might fall out of his helm at the statement.

"Prowler? Wait, Prowl? You know my brother?!" The silver mech gave a chuckle and sat in a Praxian designed chair. Wait a klik…now that Bluestreak thought about it the more he realized how Praxian the room seemed.

Of course. The chair, the soft betting and numerous amounts of pillows, the low lighting for sensitive doorwings, and the lack a harsh air blown. It all made sense.

"Is…this Prowl's room?" The visored mech smiled and jumped to his pedes. He danced around the room over to the energon dispenser and produced two cubes of energon.

"Yup. Ah'm Jazz. Prowler's bondmate."

"Seriously? My brother's here? He's here…and he didn't want to see me?" Coolant whelmed up in Blue's optics, his emotions all over the place from a terrible and hectic day. Primus, he was seriously one step away from falling off of a cliff if he was not careful.

From the look on Jazz's face-plates, he knew it too. He frantically waved his servos about, panic clear on his face.

"Slag! Chill out lil mech! He's been busy! He checked on ya while yer're still out and in the medbay! He and Smokey haven't stopped talkin about ya!" Blue's optics widened even more and he began to sob.

"Smokey's here too?! And he didn't want to see me either?! No one loves me!" Predictably enough, Jazz ended up with a weeping Praxian in his arms.

_**'Prowl!'**_ Bluestreak shook in Jazz's arms and the saboteur franticly flipped through the radio to find a soothing song, hoping to calm to sobbing doorwinger.

_**'Jazz?! What's wrong?! Did something happen? Where are you?!' **_Jazz growled a little at being placed in the middle of a family situation when he was not exactly part of the family.

_**'Ah'm with yer lil brother in yer room! Poor mech thinks ya and Smokey hate 'im cause ya didn' visit! Ah toldja! Didn' Ah?! Ah toldja! Now get yer aft down here before Ah strangle ya through the bond!' **_

__Needless to say, there was no argument from Prowl.

!2!2!2!2!2!2!2!2!

Prowl was quiet as he watched his bondmate comfort his brother from the safety of the doorway. While Jazz, of course, knew he was present, Bluestreak had yet to notice him. They talked in quiet voices, Jazz encouraging Blue as he calmed himself. His doorwings fluttered more freely than any Prowl had seen in a long time. Smokescreen's control on his Praxian appendages was not as skilled as his own, but much more so than their youngest brother. It was not surprising since the passed groon or two had been his first experience with the war. There had been no need for such training. Even Prowl had spoiled the youngest into never thinking he would need such abilities.

Yet here he was. The youngest, most innocent sparkling of the House of Strikeforce. The prime example of sweetness, naivety, purity, and goodness. Here he was, the victim of more war than Smokescreen had even seen, almost as much as Prowl. While he was stronger than he had been confined to the medbay, Bluestreak looked so small and sparkling like next to Jazz, even if the saboteur was smaller. It was so hard to believe he was already 19 vrons. Where had the time gone?

"P-Prowl?" The SIC froze at the sound of his name and slowly, oh so slowly, looked into his little brother's optics. They shared a moment of stillness until Prowl felt a nudge in his spark. Furrowing his face-plates, he searched deep in his spark for the source of the disturbance.

_**'Prowl?' **_A tirade of foreign emotions assaulted him in the most pleasant way. It was almost like first time Jazz and Prowl had spark-merged; the feeling of unity, a feeling once familiar, but long since passed.

_**'I…I am here, Bluestreak. I'm here.' **_Bluestreak trilled and chirped at him in sparkling language that had not yet dissolved from his coding. His doorwings flickered in an old memorable dance, professing his love and long denied adoration for his eldest brother. The gray youngling knew Prowl's aversion of public displays of affection, but not even he, a Praixan to his core, could deny their most primal source demonstration of devotion.

_**'I…I've missed you so much. Brother, I've missed you.' **_Prowl smiled in his spark and was startled once again at another pull on their sibling bond.

_**'Aww…and who missed me?' **_

_** 'Smokey!' **_It was a dysfunctional, but memorable family reunion.


End file.
